


Green Eyed

by thewritingkoala, Tina0609



Series: Tom & Hanna [17]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Crying, Drunk flirting, F/M, Han is in a bad mood, Hangover, Heavy Drinking, Insecurities, Jealous!Han, dieting, getting sick, jelousy, past dating, set visits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 20:25:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17168822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: This part of the series will have three chapters. We'll see a jealous Hanna who tries to juggle her insecurities as well as being a mother of two, with a 7-months-old Vicky, and a husband who acts in a movie with beautiful Emma Watson.





	1. Green Eyed

“Jamie, _bitte_ , could you eat a little faster?” Her son gives her a look that could challenge one of his father’s when he’s being stubborn.

Han tries to suppress an eye roll and succeeds enough to not anger her two-year old. He’s eating peas and mashed potatoes, and by the concentration shown on his face you could almost think it’s a science.

She knows why he’s doing it though. Jamie knows that after dinner it’s time for a bath and then a story and bed. And his father’s late. Again. It’s not his fault, really. But Han can see how excited Tom gets, filming this new thriller of his. And how excited he is to work with Emma Watson. And sometimes shooting does take a little longer. Well. More than “sometimes”.

Han sighs and readjusts Vicky in her arms, holding the bottle of milk for her.

It’s not like she’s not happy for Tom. Working on something he loves and has fun with. It’s just that… her days are mostly not that exciting and yes, she feels a little left out.

When the front door opens and closes, Jamie picks up immediately and all Han can do is shout an, _“Erst aufessen!”_ (Eat up first!), but Jamie’s already off his little chair, running towards the hall. Great. It’s gonna be a fight convincing him to eat his meal before pudding. Now, Han does roll her eyes. He’s too much like his daddy, sometimes.

Tom has barely closed the door and toed off his shoes when something small and squealing barrels down the corridor.

He dimly hears something German shouted in Han’s voice before he squats down to catch the little bundle of energy that is his son hurtling himself at him.

“Daddy!”

“Heyyy, my little man!” Tom rises with Jamie in his arms and flinches when he sees a yellow-greenish handprint smudge of food on his blue shirt.

“How come you’re still not done with dinner, hm?”

All he gets is a grin and a sticky hand on his cheek.

“It’s because he’s a pudding boy like his insufferable father,” Tom hears someone say, and Han steps out into the corridor, matching food stains on her sweater and their daughter in her arms.

He can’t help his sheepish grin, answering, “I’m sorry?” and laughs at Han’s eye roll.

“You’re not. You love pudding and you’re happy that you can share that passion.”

She’s right. He is. Well, he loves all kinds of food. But she’s still right. With Jamie, who’s snuggled up to him now, Tom makes his way over to his two girls.

Vicky gurgles happily at him, especially when Tom runs his index finger down her chubby cheek.

“Hi,” he says softly, before lifting his head to meet Han’s eyes. “And hi to you.” He kisses her, grinning at Jamie’s suffering “ew” that echoes through the hall.

“Hi yourself,” Han smiles back before she leans a little closer to him. “Can you please make Jamie eat his dinner?”

With a nod and a grin, Tom stands tall. “Yup. How has your day been?” he asks on the way to the kitchen.

Han shifts the small yet significant weight of Vicky to her other arm and drops into one of the kitchen chairs.

“Well, it’s been an adventure,” she says drily, quirking a brow at Tom.

“I tamed wild beasts, climbed a few mountains, prevented a volcanic eruption, and swung from trees like Tarzan. Or well, like Jane.”

Tom’s expression is priceless but she’s a bit too tired to giggle. The next moment, he blinks, then guffaws as he deftly maneuvers himself into a chair with Jamie on his lap.

“I’m pretty sure you did just that or at least have the exhaustion that goes with it.”

There’s understanding in his eyes, and warmth in his smile.

Still, Han isn’t very fond of this daily question of his. With occasional highlights like a new tooth, a new word or a really naughty prank of their rebellious 2-year-old, her days are all the same here at home.

That’s also the reason she can’t help but add, “And Vicky pooped three times.” This time, Tom blinks and stares, but doesn’t say anything. “Sorry. I’m tired and cranky.”

He smiles indulgently and Han feels bad. It’s not his fault she’s not working but staying at home with two kids.

“Well, it’s exciting for her at least,” he says while taking a bite from Jamie’s food which their son - of course - doesn’t find that amusing and starts eating again. So predictable.

Hanna’s almost afraid to ask but does it anyway. “So. How’s your day been?”

“Physical. It’s so great to see Emma perform, but she’s also simply so in her element with the stunts. Throwing herself in. I mean, you can see the change with her doing all the physical stuff.”

Han nods. He’s so excited, talking with his free hand that doesn’t hold Jamie, almost starting to babble.

“And I mean, she’s playing a mother of two, who hasn’t got much time on her hands. So we can’t make her too fit, you know?”

Well now, what’s that supposed to mean?! “Huh.”

Emma is amazing, really a perfect co-star. She’s come a long way from the time when he presented her with the Woman of the Year award at the GQ Awards 2013, and she’s definitely more than Hermione from the Harry Potter movies (which he finally watched because Han made him).

“So the team is going easy on the make-up and all,” he talks on, looking down to where Jamie is struggling valiantly with his dinner.

“Trying to give her a bit of a frazzled edge and more casual look while at the same time she pulls off all those stunts. She’s obviously not supposed to have a super-model figure or anything and…”

He’s looked up and something about Hanna’s expression stops his babbling.

She looks…kind of pissed off. But why?

They stare at each other. Unmoving.

And then Tom sees Han’s grip on Vicky tighten and feels the need to tighten his grip on Jamie as well, simply to protect himself.

She wouldn’t pounce on him if he’s holding their lovely son. Right?

She still doesn’t say anything so Tom feels the urge to do it himself. Typical for him. “We want to go away from the image that every woman needs to be super skinny to be perfect.”

Han’s eye twitches. Oh.

“So,” his wife finally says, all calm and collected, “a mother of two isn’t too fit and casual and frazzled, right?”

Oh. Oh, shit. Tom looks at his two children and back at Hanna. No. No, she got that wrong. But before he can say anything, Han continues.

“I really hope it wasn’t too much of a hassle for poor Emma to suddenly look like a tired, worn-out, unfit mother of two. Can’t imagine the amount of make-up to make her look like that. When she’s so fit and all.”

She stares him dead in the eye before sighing and shifting Vicky’s weight in her arms again.

Oh, shit.

“Um…I said the wrong thing, didn’t I?” he blurts out, wondering how he can be so eloquent at some times and so utterly tongue-tied at other times.

Han sighs again. She looks wounded more than annoyed now, and it feels like knives twisting in his gut.

He should really talk less.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he cajoles, hoping she can see the sincerity in his eyes. “I swear. Han, you know me, I don’t endorse all those false beauty standards and touched-up photos. I was just…”

“You were just what, Tom? Gushing over a woman who’s super fit when your wife feels like a barely tolerable, washed up on the shore, moderately attractive in a mother-of-two way _Aschenputtel_ *?” _(*the German term for Cinderella before she turns into the pretty maiden who woos the prince.)_

He blinks, trying to figure out whether that was some obscure German curse word or whether she’s so emotional she butchered an English word.

Either way… “You’re nothing like that, Han. For heaven’s sake, you know I love you, body and soul and tiny perfect imperfections. And you know I can’t keep my hands off you, so how can you think I meant it that way?”

“Well,” Hanna starts, “maybe because you’re praising the lovely Emma Watson, who plays your love interest, for her fit body and great physique.”

She sees Tom’s eye twitch and now he blinks and Han just can’t with him anymore. “And you have to say all those nice things to me, because we’re married. And you meaning it really doesn’t change how I feel.” And that Emma Watson is beautiful and younger and single, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I don’t have to say them, I want to. And I mean it. And I want you. You know that.”

“Well, you’re not here that much to tell me.”

There. She’s said it.

“Han… I… what? You’ve never…”

“Didn’t want to ruin the fun for you on set,” she grumbles and stands up with Vicky in her arms, rocking her a bit. Good, Jamie’s done with eating. “Come on Jamie, bath time.” She stands next to Tom, holding out a hand for Jamie, not looking at her husband.

Yes, she’s grumpy, no, she doesn’t care.

Goodness. Something has gone spectacularly wrong.

Tom gulps, running a hand back through his now short hair. Here he was, bursting with joy to come home to a wife and children he loves even more than his amazing job, and what seems like seconds later, someone has up-ended a bucket of cold ice over his unsuspecting head.

Han isn’t even looking at him when she holds out a hand for Jamie to follow her into the bathroom.

His son takes a step before turning back and wobbling in the process. “Daddy? Bah-th?”

Tom shoots out of the chair but stops at Han’s look.

“Want Daddy!” Jamie insists when she takes a step further, reaching out his free hand.

He hears her grumble something in German very lowly before pasting on a smile.

“Okay.”

Only then does Tom follow them, giving his son a wink to reassure him that all is well.

* * *

Well, of course he wants his daddy. Everyone wants Tom. Stupid Emma Watson probably wants Tom as well.

Okay. She’s met Emma. She’s not stupid, which is possibly worse. And maybe she also doesn’t want Tom.

Han couldn’t blame her though. He’s quite perfect when he’s not a pain in the ass. And Emma’s so well read and not a stay at home mom of two and she’s not bitchy on set probably.

And then Tom comes home to Han and of course she’s cranky. That doesn’t help the situation with a beautiful co-star, does it?

Han’s thoughts are interrupted by Jamie’s little voice. “Vi?” he asks now that they’ve reached the bathroom.

Han shakes her head, still stubbornly ignoring Tom, who shuffles along after them. “No, Vicky’s not having her bath today.”

“Mummy?”

“No. Just Jamie today.”

“And Daddy.”

Well, Han is tempted to drown Tom in the bathtub, but that’s not what Jamie means. Just as she’s about to answer, Tom chimes in.

“Actually, yes, Daddy’s having a bath as well.”

She narrows her eyes. What is he playing at?

Han gives him a narrow-eyed look that seems to wonder what he’s playing at.

Well, truth be told, he isn’t quite sure but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

With a salacious wink in her direction, he helps Jamie out of his clothes with one hand while he tugs at his own with his free hand. When his shirt is off, he catches a micro-second of Han ogling before she very deliberately turns and busies herself with the levers of the tub, muttering under her breath.

Stifling a grin, Tom hoists a now naked Jamie up to perch on the tub’s broad rim before opening his own trousers.

Han stiffens at the sound of the zipper but is still refusing to look at him while Vicky looks on with her big puppy dog eyes.

Naked himself, Tom prowls a few feet closer to Han and makes his body brush hers briefly while pretending to test the temperature of the water now flowing into the generously sized tub.

“Tom,” Han hisses. Not that quietly apparently, because the next thing she hears is a slightly lisped “Thoooom” from Jamie.

Her husband chuckles. “Yes, love?”

Damn him. And his stupid body and his stupid smile. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Me?! I’m not doing anything except having bath time with my son.”

He’s all innocent and acting and she hates it because she loves it. “It’s not going to work, Tom.”

She almost believes so herself, even as she risks a glance at that stupid face. But he has hurt her. Even if it wasn’t voluntarily.

“Nah.” That’s all he says before scooping a squealing Jamie up in his arms and lowering his - quite perfect - body in the water. Slowly.

She hates him. He’s so insufferable when he’s trying to get on her good side again.

She’s definitely sneaking peeks. And blushing a tiny bit. At least he hopes it’s his effect and not the warmth rising from the steamy bath water. It covers him enough to be decent while also being shallow enough not to be dangerous for their child.

“Ducky!” Jamie squeals, splashing a bit and causing Vicky to grizzle joyfully.

Tom grabs the colourful Duckvengers rubber duckies lining the tub’s rim (he gets Iron Man, Jamie chooses Captain America).

“Are the duckies going to have an adventure, Jamie?” he asks, feeling almost as giddily gleeful as his little son.

“’ven-shure! Yes!”

Han rolls her eyes so hard he can almost hear it. “I have no idea where he got this from,” she deadpans, making Tom chuckle without any real guilt.

“Nope, me either.”

“Noppppp,” echoes Jamie, poping the P.

Their son’s adorableness seems to be working in Tom’s favour as much as the bare torso Han is trying not to stare at.

But when he catches his wife’s gaze, she still looks rather annoyed.

Now what?

It’s too easy for him sometimes, Han thinks. Parading around (or sitting around) naked and everything’s fine because he’s Tom freaking Hiddleston.

And it’s not like she’s the only one seeing him like this, at least physically. At the moment the crew of the new movie (and Emma) sees him like that quite often.

And he sees his co-star in not much more in at least two scenes.

Han looks down at herself. She’s wearing a grey sweater with food stains, didn’t wash her hair today and yep, it’s been a sweatpants kind of day. She’s not wearing make-up and is pretty sure that Vicky’s left traces of milk somewhere in Han’s brown hair.

Her body’s different since the second birth as well.

And then she sees Tom in all his glory.

Han sighs, ignoring Tom looking at her. “You continue with Jamie, I’ll get this one ready,” she says, leaving with Vicky in her arms.

Well, hell.

Either he’s losing his touch–scary–or he’s really wounded Han–even scarier.

He’s tried words, he’s tried seduction. What else is left?

A splash of water right into his face turns his attention back to Jamie and his demands for a “duckie ‘ven-shure”, so Tom forces himself to smile.

He makes up a story of a dangerous iceberg (his knee poking out of the water) that the ducks have to avoid crashing into and has his son shrieking with delight and somehow getting cleaner in the process.

It’s nice. Being a normal dad. Unwinding after hours in the spotlight. But he misses Hanna with them and wants to kick himself for inadvertantly putting his foot in his mouth.

* * *

Han has Vicky changed and settled on the big bed she normally shares with Tom. The baby’s gurgling happily, with enough milk in her tummy to sleep a full night and not a care in the world.

Propped up pillows help the baby not rolling off the bed while Han stands in front of the large mirror in the bedroom. A mirror that in the moment only helps Tom, since Han doesn’t really see the need to use it normally.

She doesn’t like what she’s seeing anyway. Or - at least - doesn’t appreciate it as much as she used to.

This time, she turns and pinches skin at her stomach and her hips. Her breasts are still big, that’s about the only positive things she sees at the moment. And her hair is glossy when she washes it, that as well.

Han sighs, then turns and looks at Vicky. “I promise, there was a time I was comfortable right here, little one.”

Something about the way her daughter stares at her as if she’s the most fascinating–or only important–person on the planet reminds her so much of Tom always giving her 500 percent of his attention that she heaves another sigh.

Maybe she isn’t very fair to him today. Maybe she should know that he’s always gushing about his co-stars and totally not thinking of her any less. But doesn’t she have a right to feel down once in a while?

She loves her children, loves Tom, loves being a mother. But loving something doesn’t mean you have to love it fiercely all the time, doesn’t even mean you have to be blissfully happy with it all the time either.

The sound of Jamie cheering and her husband’s deeper voice and laughter joining in makes one corner of her mouth curl up.

Involuntarily insensitive idiot or not, Tom has a magical touch with their two Little Hiddlestons.

Speaking of magical touch… Nope. No, she’s not going to think of that right now. Not even sure whether she really wants him to touch her body. Or whether he wants to, despite his words and flirtatious actions.

Ugh, she’s a mess, isn’t she?

Her thoughts are interrupted by her two men making a squeaky clean entrance, a very naked Jamie riding on the shoulders of his almost naked father, a towel slung lowly around Tom’s hips.

She’s torn between rolling her eyes because she knows how much of a hassle it’ll be to get Jamie dressed now, and sighing because it’s a perfect picture that presents itself to her.

“Look, there’s Mummy and Vicky!” Tom exclaims making Jamie squeal with delight.

“Mummy! Vi!”

Han shakes her head a little but can’t help her grin. “Hello there, Jamie. Did you win against the evil iceberg?”

Excited head nodding gives her the information and Han grins. “That’s great, little one. Now, let’s get dressed.”

Yep, she’s aware of Tom’s gaze on her. And she’s also aware that she doesn’t acknowledge him. And let’s be real, that’s an impressive thing when he’s almost naked. And when he’s dressed as well.

“Nooo,” Jamie shouts, “nooooo!”

“Great. Just great. You can wrestle him then.” Oops. That’s harsher than it could have been. But at least she’s looked at Tom now. Tom, who stares back at her wide eyed.

Something is wrong. Even wronger than he thought a while ago.

He doesn’t expect bowing and effervescent gratitude for bathing his son–and himself–but a smile or a word would be nice. Would be normal.

Apparently, they’re not doing normal today.

Tom feels deflated but his son’s chin wobbles and neither he nor Han have enough energy left for the floodgates and wails to be unleashed.

And so he contorts himself and makes silly noises to shake Jamie off his shoulders and deftly catch him.

“We just went on an awesome adventure with the duckies, right?”

“Yesssss.”

“And remember the superhero duckies all wore capes? Special clothes for their adventures?”

His boy scrunches up his face, thinks hard and nods enthusiastically.

“That means if you want to be as great as them, you need to wear clothes too. Okay? Jamie gets dressed and his daddy gets dressed and then we can go on another adventure.”

With the look of a martyr that only small children can pull off, Jamie nods again, much less enthusiastically.

So he hands the naked child to Hanna, who smiles a tiny bit but still won’t really talk to him.

She’s got no idea what’s wrong with her, she really doesn’t.

Maybe it’s the fact that Tom always has amazing things to say with amazing people he’s met, and the only grown-up contact Han has is while going grocery shopping - with Vicky attached to her - and when she’s at the kindergarten for Jamie.

And then she’s happy the grown-ups are actual parents and not some paparazzi.

Or maybe - definitely - it’s the fact that Tom praises Emma Watson while Han’s simply not happy with herself.

Anyway, now she’s got Jamie in her arms, but can’t muster much more than a small smile for Tom.

“Gonna get him dressed,” she says and walks out to Jamie’s room, tickling him a bit to keep him occupied.

She picks out the Thor pyjamas, pretty sure that it’s the easiest choice. “Are these okay?” she asks her son who - much to her surprise - nods enthusiastically. “Great,” she beams, putting the outfit on for him.

“Mummy read?”

She nods. “Definitely.”

* * *

When Tom–now somewhat more dressed–pads silently to Jamie’s room a while later, his heart gives a great, big thud of overwhelming love.

His son is tucked into his bed, the collar of his Thor pyjamas the only thing visible because he’s clutching the sheet close to his chin. Eyes wide, he is listening to his mother reading about an elephant with ridiculously huge ears.

Han is also on the bed, sitting with her legs crossed at the ankles and one arm looped loosely around Jamie so she can stroke his hair gently.

Her voice is low but expressive and betrays nothing of the exhaustion she must be feeling.

Tom stands there in the doorway, mentally snapping a photo of this scene to store it away in his heart for all those times when he’s at the other end of the globe.

Everything inside him screams for him to join them on the bed, cuddle both of them close and soak in the comfort of his family.

But this evening is different, and he suspects Han needs some time and space as nothing he says or does seems to be right.

Suppressing a sigh and the longing in his gut, Tom turns silently and walks back into their bedroom.

* * *

When Jamie’s breaths even out, Han stops reading and slowly gets up from the bed to pad out of the room, leaving the night light on and the door open so Jamie can call or come to the bedroom if anything is amiss.

Walking to the bedroom – while she simultaneously thinks of all the things that wait for her in the other parts of the house, like the dishes in the kitchen and the toys scattered across the living-room – Han is greeted by a sight she’ll never get sick of.

Tom’s on his back, Vicky sprawled across his chest, giggling happily while he tickles her. He’s so good and in love with them, even when he comes home late, simulating being married to another woman for work.

He looks up and smiles a little, whispering, “Look, there’s Mummy,” to their little daughter. God, she misses him.

So, instead of going to the kitchen, Han walks to the bed, lowering herself on her side on the bed, one hand tucked under her cheek and smiling at Vicky.

She sighs. “Hello, baby,” she whispers, running one finger over Vicky’s cheek, making the baby smile.

“You okay?” Tom whispers and Han feels bad for simply shrugging as an answer. But she really doesn’t know. She’s just so off today.

That shrug hurts him.

Tom frowns, shifting his little daughter a bit so she’s lying between them and can wiggle around her chubby legs and arms, making gurgling sounds that slowly turn sleepier.

“Han, won’t you tell me what’s wrong? If I hurt you, I didn’t mean to. Which doesn’t make me less guilty, I suppose”

He unleashes the full force of his puppy dog look on her, hoping she will open up to him. Hanna is a very vocal and confident person, and he usually knows how he’s fucked up when he’s managed to anger or hurt her.

Tentatively, he reaches out and brushes his knuckles over her cheek.

“C’mon, my beautiful wife, let me hear what a wanker I’ve been.”

She sighs and swallows, and Tom’s a little afraid of what to expect.

“I’m not,” she whispers.

He frowns. What the heck does she mean? “You’re not what?”

“Don’t think I’m all that beautiful right now.”

His heart shatters. Literally shatters. His hand stops moving and he doesn’t even hear Vicky’s little gurgles anymore.

“Why don’t you? What is this nonsense? You’re beautiful, I can’t stop touching you.”

“Well, we’re married. We’re used to each other. You love me. Doesn’t make me beautiful or fit or anything like… like Emma or something.”

“Han, listen. I didn’t mean it like that.” Tom sits up now, looking down at his wife, who still won’t look at him, but looks at Vicky instead. She hasn’t even raised her voice, that’s how deflated she must feel.

And just because he couldn’t shut up about his stupid movie?

“You’re beautiful, I love you,” he insists, while he doesn’t really know what more to say to make this better.

It should be enough, shouldn’t it? And often it is because deep down, Hanna knows that Tom does love her. That she’s his and he’s hers and everything is fine.

But there are days when she just doesn’t want to be happy or be convinced or be mollycoddled. Days when it’s all a bit much and she has a few minutes of doubt and needs to reconfigure her brain and heart.

And it isn’t even Tom’s fault really, which makes his sad face even worse to bear.

But it is what it is.

“I love you too.”

She’ll give him that much because it’s also true.

Not waiting for his reaction, Han gets up and pads away to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

She’s even locked it, to be more precise. She’s been constantly there smiling for everyone and being talked out of funks easily by Tom, she simply can’t ‘adult’ tonight.

It’s not even that late and she’s still got things to do, but maybe a hot shower is exactly what she needs.

Relaxing and just being there for herself feels great right now.

As she undresses and gets ready for her shower, Han can hear Tom’s low voice talking to their daughter from the other side of the door – and happy giggles from her as if she’s responding.

When Han starts the shower, there are feet on the floor that get nearer and a slow tap on the door.

“Han? I don’t want you to be alone now, can we come in?”

“No. No, you can’t come in.”

Before she can hear his response, Han makes a quick dash to the shower and steps in, feeling the hot water slowly warm and relax her befuddled mind.

Tom narrowly manages to suppress a frustrated growl and keep from banging his fist against the door.

This whole ‘give her space to breathe and calm down’ thing is infuriating because he hates feeling helpless and hurting for the love of his life.

Also, Han fleeing into a shower evokes awful memories that make it hard to breathe. Of that time in Italy when the paparazzi snapped them having naughty fun al fresco on the balciony, and of Han having a breakdown when it was all over the media.

It sends a jolt of pain through him but he knows that him freaking out won’t help.

Hoping to God that she isn’t crying her heart out inside the shower–once again because of something that is in some screwed up, indirect way his fault–Tom paces back and forth, back and forth.

The motion lulls Vicky to sleep so he places her gently back down in the middle of the bed before resuming his pacing. He can hear water and nothing much else.

He waits and waits and worries, then finally grumbles to himself and looks for something to do.

Walking to the wardrobe, he roots around for Han’s favourite, most comfy sleeping clothes and gets them ready for her.

* * *

When she’s finished her shower, Han realises that she forgot to get clothes. Great. That means going in just a towel and not much else, right?

She also doesn’t hear Tom – or Vicky – anymore. So maybe that means she can avoid any awkward run-ins.

Startled she realises, those meetings with her husband shouldn’t be awkward.

When Han slowly opens the door, she sees Tom shooting up from the bed, her favourite comfy clothes for sleeping in hand. He’s picked exactly what she would have as well.

In the bed Han sees a sleeping Vicky and then she looks at Tom who has such a hopeful look in his eyes, that she can’t help herself anymore.

“Thank you,” she whispers, pointing to the clothes while her grip on the towel tightens. “That’s what I need, i think.”

That makes him smile tentatively.

Han stands there, debating what she should do next and feeling a fraction better after her shower.

Tom crosses over to her with that slow prowling gait he’s perfected.

“Let’s get you ready for bed, love,” he says softly–and somehow that’s what she wants to hear, not more seduction or worried questions.

And so she lets him take charge again, and it’s a soft kind of yielding that doesn’t cost her as much as she’d have thought, though things are still not completely right.

Her grip on the towel loosens as Tom tugs and peels it away, then kneels to hold the legs of her pyjama pants out for her to step into.

“You’re so very beautiful, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

He says it softly, reverently almost, leaning closer.

Then his lips are on her calf with its aching muscles.

“Here.”

He gives her another soft kiss on her thighs, a bit chunkier and with skin a bit less firm than they used to be.

“And here.”

Tom pulls the trousers higher and kisses the stretch marks on her almost flat belly.

“And most definitely here.”

He nuzzles closer but somehow keeps his behaviour clear of anything sexual.

She wouldn’t have the energy left for anything sexual anyway. And she loves that Tom gets that and she loves his words and actions even more.

So much that it brings tears to her eyes that she wipes hastily, and sniffles a bit. The only sign that shows her Tom’s heard is him nuzzling in even more and planting a soft kiss right next to her belly button.

He gets up slowly, shirt in hand, then ducks a little to press a kiss on each breast. “You’re beautiful here as well, and very much…” He pauses a moment, looking into her eyes and then kisses her lips. “…here,” he murmurs.

She feels like smiling at him for the first time today, so she does.

“Arms up, Hanna,” Tom says, his voice almost the same as when he talks Vicky to sleep, and she does as he said, him pulling the shirt on for her, before he kisses her nose.

Tom feels a weight lift off his shoulders when Han gives him her first real smile in hours, reaching her still slightly sad and more than slightly tired eyes.

He grasps her shoulders and turns her around, then unties her somewhat messy ponytail and gently sifts his fingers through her hair to work out the tangles. His fingertips graze her skull in the slightest of massages because he can practically feel the tension in his own body.

Han sighs softly and sways towards him, so he steps closer until he can hug her close from behind.

After a moment, Tom presses a last kiss on top of her hair.

“And you’re extremely beautiful inside this hard, stubborn little head of yours too, so please don’t torment yourself, love.”

He doesn’t get an aswwer and he’s all out of words anyway, so he turns her again and walks her to the bed.

“Do you want me to hold you until you fall asleep or to make a bee line for the kitchen and all those dirty dishes first?” he asks.

What? No! She wants to protest loudly, but the sleeping Vicky on the bed wouldn’t allow her. So, apparently, Han’s tired body and mind decide to stammer something out.

“No, Tom. I have… You shouldn’t… So many things to do… Vicky.” Whelp, that isn’t helpful at all, as Han can clearly see on Tom’s face.

So, she makes herself heavier, and they come to a stop, Tom’s head adorably tilted.

Han takes a breath and starts again. “I’ll do the dishes Tom. And Vicky needs to be put down in her crib. You were busy, I should… I will…”

But before her brain can malfunction again, Tom interrupts her. With a smile and a huff. “I know that you want to do that, love, but you shouldn’t and you won’t. You get in bed, give Vicky a kiss and cuddle her while I face the dishes.”

His hands grab her waist and start leading her backwards again. She’s so caught up in his words, she doesn’t even find it in her to protest. Or maybe she’s simply tired, especially now after the relaxing shower and sitting on the bed.

Huh.

“C’mon, darling, in with you. There you go.”

Tom’s voice is that intoxicating mix of stern command and soothing gentleness that always makes her comply. Before Han knows it, she’s lying in bed next to Vicky and Tom is drawing the sheet up over her and tucking her in as if she were another child.

“All set.” He smiles and presses a last kiss to her forehead.

“No need to wait up for me, Han. I’ll be a while and then I’ll just fall into bed and join you in dreamland.”

She opens her mouth–to protest? To say something, Lord knows what?

But Tom is already moving again, so she snuggles in farther and shuts her eyes obediently as he closes the door partly and walks away.

Faintly, she can hear the sound of water and dishes, even off and on something that sounds like Tom humming softly to himself and walking around the kitchen.

* * *

30 minutes later he’s done with the dishes and also picked up enough toys to open a private nursery in their house. A little futile considering tomorrow they’ll all be out again.

It’s been a strange day today and all Tom could think of while doing the chores is how to help Han this time.

He can’t really do anything, can he? Although, maybe she wants to visit the set? Take the children with her? To see everything’s alright.

Yep, he decides, he’s going to ask her.

When he enters their bedroom, all he hears are Han’s deep, low and slow breaths, a sure sign she’s asleep.

So, Tom picks up Vicky – with minimal movements and noise – and carries her to her crib that still stands in their bedroom.

When he’s sure she’ll sleep on, he gets ready for the night himself and then slips into the bed behind Han. Tom smiles when he feels her snuggling closer in her sleep, and soon drifts off himself, his wife secured in his arms.


	2. Set Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han is visiting Tom on set with the children. And some past and recent secrets are revealed.

“Jamie, _Schatz_ , please wait on the stairs for Mama, yes?” Han lets out a huff when Jamie finally – finally – does as he’s told.

Rocking a babbling Vicky in her arms, Han crouches down in front of the stairs a bit to close the velcro straps on Jamie’s shoes. No, it’s not the best method and yes, there should be shoelaces, but Han is already running behind this morning.

And they need to get to Tom. Tom, who’s on set and waiting for them to visit. He’s invited Han to see what they’re filming for herself.

Jamie’s as excited as he can be. Han not so much.

“Shoes on,” her son mumbles with a grin, and Han smiles at him.

“Shoes on,” she confirms as the door bell rings. It’s only her ‘mummy look’ – as Tom dubbed it – that pins Jamie on the stairs.

It’s Faisal at the door, Tom’s driver and security whenever there are important events to attend. “Han,” he greets friendly.

“Faisal, good to see you,” she smiles back. “Just need to get this one in her carrier and fetch Jamie’s car seat and then we’re ready.”

It isn’t Han’s first set visit by far. Tom has proudly been showing her off–and eagerly been sharing his work–since their engagement years ago, and she’s enjoyed every visit apart from the first one where she almoist died with ‘stage fright’.

But this is different. This time it’ll be her with Little Hiddleston Volume 1 and Volume 2 in tow. She’s conscious about how she looks, what impression as a mother she’ll leave, and how everyone will react to two small children on set.

And then there’s Emma.

Whom she’s definitely not thinking about. Nope, not her. Nuh-uh.

Resolutely pushing that complicated topic to the back of her churning mind, Han shrugs into a new jacket she’s splurged on–nope, not to impress certain people, no–and pats her pockets for essential ‘mum out with her two babies’ items.

When she emerges with the carrier and seat, Faisal immediately picks up the latter.

Guess it’s showtime then, Han thinks to herself with a great swallow.

“Mu-um. Readyyyyy?” Jamie whines.

Well, at least someone is eager to get going.

“Ja, Jamie, we’re ready.”

As ready as can be…

* * *

The drive through London and then a little bit out is way too fast for the city’s traffic and Han’s nerves. She’s almost asked Faisal to take a more scenic route – twice.

But at least the children behave, babbling and bouncing along in the back seats.

Faisal’s been talking to her about anything and everything, seemingly getting her mood today. He’s even talked her out of a mild panic as Han realised a stroller for Vicky and potentionally Jamie would have been much more comfortable for a visit on set.

Well, she’s going to carry Vicky now and hopes Jamie stays by her side. Easy.

“You know,” Tom’s driver and friend states as they drive through the gates of the studio, “Tom’s been really excited to show you around today. Couldn’t stop talking this morning.”

“He never can,” Han huffs, but smiles at the idea. As long as it’s excitement and not nervousness that has him all giddy.

She’s so lost in thoughts on why exactly Tom could be nervous, she doesn’t even realise when the car stops. It’s Jamie’s “Mama out?” that startles her.

“Yup, Mama out.”

In fact, she’s barely ‘out’ before there’s a joyful shout of “Daddyyyy!” and she sees Jamie leaping into the arms of a waiting Tom.

Han adjusts little Vicky in the carrier and for a moment, she forgets being nervous.

It’s just always such a joy to see Tom with their kids, and she suspects those moments will never get old. Feeling her face break into a smile, she watches how he lifts their son high, both of them whooping as if they haven’t seen each other for ages. They execute some complicated set of greeting ritual with lots of hand motions once Jamie’s feet are on the ground again.

Then Tom turns to her as Jamie curls his little hand into his father’s big one.

“Hello, love. I’m so happy to have you here. I’ve been counting the minutes until your arrival.”

He winks at her in that slightly crooked, open-mouthed way of his, but she has an inkling that he’s probably really done that.

Of course, they’ve seen each other just this morning, before Tom was picked up to go to set. But it was early and the children were about to wake up, and Tom and Han were tired.

A normal day, actually.

It’s nice to see his family before everyone – and after everyone – is tired. Yes, he’s got things to do, but he’s specifically chosen this day because it’s not too hectic.

And because Emma and him won’t shoot any risky scenes.

Yes, Han said the reason she got jealous wasn’t because of Emma per se but because she didn’t feel comfortable anyway. But better to be safe than sorry.

And Han, who’s reached him and Jamie – Vicky in her carrier – by now simply looks beautiful today.

“Hi,” she whispers as she’s close to him, standing on her tiptoes a little bit and giving him a kiss. A kiss that’s a little short for his taste, but Tom can see a little blush beginning to reach her cheeks. “So, you’ve been waiting for us? Don’t you have work to do?” she then grins.

“Meh, work.” He scoffs and shrugs exaggeratedly, which makes her grin briefly.

The grin vanishes as soon as she tears her gaze off him and takes in their surroundings.

It’s a busy day–it always is. There are dozens of people scurrying to and fro, crew as much as other people that need to be on set. They’ve already shot a gunfight, and he’s made sure to remove all traces of blood make-up on his arms before meeting Jamie, Vicky and his beautiful but obviously nervous wife.

Tom has missed having her on set, showing off his work as much as showing her off to everyone who isn’t already sick and tired of listening to him talking about his family 24/7.

Maybe he could show her a glimpse of the old library they’ve built on set for some scenes, if the director thinks she can be trusted with the secret?

Han swallows thickly and stands up straighter, and he follows her line of sight.

“Oh. Hi, Emma.”

So, there she is. Looking beautiful and as if she’s just out of a cover shooting instead of being in make-up to look like a mother of two.

Han barely holds in the scowl that wants to form on her face. The ‘Hi, Emma’ from Tom sounded way too friendly.

No. No, she won’t do that. She trusts him, and yes, Emma as well somehow. No hard feelings, no strange behaviour.

“Hi,” the actress smiles brightly at Tom and then turns a little to face Han fully. “Hi, Hanna. It’s so great to have you on set.”

Aaaand there’s a hug. A little strange with Vicky in her carrier that Han still has in her hand, but they manage somehow.

“Hello, Emma.”

When she lets go, Han takes Tom’s hand in her free one, squeezing a bit.

“Oh, your children are gorgeous, they absolutely look like the both of you,” Emma gushes and Han doesn’t know, if she should beam proudly or huff.

Damn it, keep it together.

Vicky, the little traitor, decides that Emma is more friend than foe, showing her a wide grin with a hint of tiny teeth. When the actress leans closer and coos in delight, the toddler gurgles and circles her chubby arms, prompting Emma to go “aaawww”.

While Han feels a bit stupid–for no apparent reason, because shouldn’t she be glad that her daughter is on her best behaviour?–Emma chucks Vicky under her chin.

Half-turning back to Tom, she gushes, “Oh look, she’s got your dimples!”

Huh. So she’s noticed Tom’s dimples.

Never mind that about a million fangirls rave about the elusive one and the prominent one–this isn’t a fangirl. This is his–very beautiful, very famous–costar.

Han clears her throat.

_Uh-oh_. The grip on Tom’s hand gets a little stronger. Plus, he knows that sound his wife is making, though it could be one of two things.

It’s either her swallowing down a sassy comment – mostly used when they attend some fancy party – or she’s about to say something mean, sometimes something passive aggressive.

He’ll find out what it’s going to be. Though, Tom doesn’t really know why. Emma’s perfectly nice – she doesn’t have any reason not to be – and the children seem to like her. Jamie’s looking just as smitten as Vicky, his hand slowly losing contact with Tom’s.

“Well, she’s got to have something from me,” he quips, and Emma laughs out loud. “She’s got all her good traits from her mother.”

At least, that earns him a slight smile and an eye-roll from Han. Good. The grip’s still tight.

His son moves closer now, seemingly catching up on something, because there’s a big grin on his face now.

“You Belle?” he asks and Tom has to swallow a chuckle when Emma blushes a bit while Han makes the sound from before.

_Uh-oh_ , indeed.

Great, Little Hiddleston Volume 1 is a traitor too.

Hanna harrumphs as Jamie is obviously as smitten with Emma as Vicky. He recently watched ‘Beauty and the Beast’ with his Daddy. And yes, Han watched it too, delighting in the way Tom joined in on the songs and twirled tiny Vicky in his arms in a dance. And yes, she liked the movie and admired Emma’s acting skills. She always does, which doesn’t make today any easier.

“Belle byoooo-tiful,” Jamie croons, and the actress promptly blushes some more and mumbles something about giant ballgowns.

Tom chuckles at his son (who’s way too young to flirt, dammit) - and then catches Han completely by surprise when he lets go of her hand to tug her closer with a possessive arm around her too round waist.

“But not as byoooo-tiful as Mama, right, Jamie?” he asks, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head.

“Mama.” Jamie nods emphatically and beams, and the world rights itself a little as a warm glow spreads through Han.

“Oh, she is,” Emma nods along, making Han be the one blushing now. “Everything in that movie is costume design and make-up artist anyway.”

“Thank you,” Han mumbles, and Tom squeezes her side a little as she strokes his back with her free hand.

“See?” her husband says, “I told you.” Han knows what he’s doing. Making her feel better in the presence of Emma. It works – a little – she admits.

“So, you want to show us the set now?” Han asks, patting Tom’s shoulder blade. And it’s got nothing to do with trying to get away from Emma. Really.

That’s also why she ignores his little smirk and knowing twinkle. Huh. Traitor as well.

“Yes,” Tom answers, letting go of her, “You mind Volume 2 and carry her around, and I will make sure Volume 1 won’t get lost.”

Just as Tom takes his son's hand, Jamie looks up at Emma. “Belle too?”

Emma nods along. “I need to get back to my trailer, I’ll just follow you around for the next two minutes,” the always happy actress answers. Great. The more the merrier.

And so they make their way across the set, Tom growing animated and almost tripping over his own tongue while explaining everything–and never failing to exchange a kind word or two with whoever of the crew crosses their path.

Emma chimes in softly off and on, which always makes Jamie stare at her in plain admiration. He’s already escaped Tom’s grip twice but is behaving himself well otherwise, keeping his small hands to himself whenever Han calls his name in reprimand.

Vicky is soaking up the energy, babbling to herself and drooling all over Han’s new jacket.

“And this is supposed to be my character’s room,” Tom says and indicates an area of the set that looks like a room, complete with a functioning door.

They all enter and have a look around the props.

“I still think it’s funny that the wall has the exact same colour of light blue like that empty room you have at your place,” Emma remarks casually.

Han stops so abruptly that she nearly loses her balance, and Tom flinches a little.

Wait a minute, wait a minute. Emma has been at Tom’s apartment before?!

Oblivious to the change in atmosphere, the actress runs her hand over a dusty book. “Did you convert it into a children's room as you told me those days, Tom?”

* * *

Ah, damn. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Tom sighs silently to himself. He knows what Hanna’s thinking. He doesn’t even have to look at her face to know. He does anyway.

His wife looks slightly agape, blinking a little owlishly, before her face settles into a frown.

It’s so much more innocent than it sounds just now. So, he’s the one clearing his throat now, speaking to Emma, but looking at his wife, the children babbling on and on about something or the other.

“Really back in the days, right? What was it? 2012 or something? Must have been 2012.”

Now, Emma looks at him like he’s gone slightly mad while Han narrows her eyes some more.

“I don’t know, Tom. 2012 or 2013. After the BAFTAs or the Women of the year thing? Don’t know,” she shrugs.

“Yeah, back then. I told you back then. Not after. We’ve barely done anything together afterwards. But yes. Yes, we’ve made that room into Jamie’s bedroom. Could even keep the blue. Ha. Strange. Funny.”

Should he stop talking? Should he continue talking? Tom doesn’t know anything anymore. It’s also really hot on set.

Emma wasn’t even at his place that often. They did lots of things together, because Luke liked to drag them to the same places. And yes, there might have been an attempt at dating. Once. And then they decided friends was better.

Maybe he shouldn’t say that now.

Han looks like she’s about to murder him, her grip on Vicky strong, staring at the set.

“Nice,” she mumbles, and as Tom moves his gaze from Han to Emma he sees his friend staring at him slightly open-mouthed as she seems to catch up on the situation.

“Well, that’s great. I couldn’t remember anyway, it’s been that long and just that once. With Luke in tow, we’ve mostly worked anyway. But yeah. That’s nice. Hey, Jamie, you want to look at these books above the bed?” Emma rambles, and as she holds out a hand for Jamie, the toddler moves to take it and off they go, a few metres into the room and sit on the bed to look at some more books.

Next to him, Han sighs.

Tom swallows. Now what?

He watches as Han shifts Vicky from one arm to the other. Should he take their daughter, relieve the burden? Or does she want to hold on to the little one to calm and centre herself?

“So, you and Emma go way back, huh?” she asks.

Tom has barely opened his mouth to babble some more things that hopefully make sense when they’re interrupted by a half-shout.

“Oh, Tom, you’ve brought your family. Finally! Let me see, let me see!”

It’s their director, Susanne, half-running in their direction.

He exchanges a quick look with Han, who takes a moment to plaster a smile on her face.

Then Susanne is cooing over Vicky while simultaneously telling Han how often she’d pestered Tom to bring his family to the set.

Han’s smile is slowly beginning to reach her eyes–but when she shoots him a glance, he’s made aware that he’ll have to face the inquisition later.

Of course, he’s saved by the bell again – or well, in this case by Susanne. Tom always manages to jump the gun, and every time Han tries her best to stay mad at him.

2012, as if. The way Emma babbled along told Han all that she needed to know. Of course there’s more to it than Tom let on. She just knows. Especially with the way he quickly defended everything that’s been said.

He knows he’s in trouble. Good.

Has he seen Emma in less than a dress for a party or the underwear she’s wearing for certain scenes? Has Luke really been standing along with them when they met “Back in the days”?

Han wants to scoff, but thinks again. No need for Susanne to notice something’s amiss.

So, Han answers multiple questions about the sleeping patterns of her children and the teeth in their mouths as well as Jamie’s attempts at speaking.

All while shooting Tom looks he simply can’t ignore. And all while having one eye trained on Emma who’s showing book covers to an excited Jamie.

“I’m happy Emma and Tom are such a good team,” Susanne says next, and this time Han can’t help the scoff that escapes her.

“I bet,” she mumbles.

Tom knows he’s blushing, though he doesn’t really have a reason to. His instinctive reaction is to praise Emma because that’s just how he is, polite and supportive of his co-stars. But that would probably not go down well with his glowering wife.

Neither does changing the topic seem like a good idea.

So Tom takes the plunge and moves to his wife’s side, placing a careful arm around her, which isn’t all that easy with Vicky in her carrier and with the small diaper bag.

“I bet we could ask Han for some tips on how to make the whole ‘mother of two’ part look credible,” he says. “She’s such a champion with our children.”

As if on cue, Jamie darts back over, shifting from foot to foot. “Mama, loo.”

Whoops, looks like a toilet break is in order.

“Why don’t I take you to my trailer?” he offers, half-dreading whether that will mean confrontation time.

That stupid charmer. She hates him. Well, she doesn’t. But she definitely hates how he always manages – or tries to manage – wriggling out of these situations.

But her son needs the loo – or better, the loo and a diaper change – and Vicky might be due for one as well. And then she’ll grill him.

“Yes, please,” Han smiles as sweetly as possible, making Tom cringe none the less. Good. “Let’s go to Papa’s trailer, hm?” Han asks a wriggling Jamie while Tom takes his son’s hand. “Lead the way.”

So, they say good-bye to Susanne, wave at Emma – Jamie is a little more enthusiastic than Han – and go, Tom with a skipping Jamie in front, Han with the bag, carrier and Vicky follows. They come across more set pieces, more colleagues and crew members and then finally find Tom’s trailer.

When they’re inside, Tom dashes to what Han thinks a little bathroom with Jamie and Han waits and looks around until she hears Jamie’s and Tom’s whoops. She smiles to herself. Tom is an incredible father.

Still, she can’t help but be a little salty. He did keep information from her after all.

So, when Tom walks out, a giggling Jamie along with him, Han can’t help but ask, “So, any particular colours to recognise in here? I mean, I obviously don’t know what your flat looked like in 2013.”

With that she turns to the couch and gets the necessary items out to change Vicky’s diapers, not even waiting for an answer from Tom.

Tom stares at Han’s back, swallowing hard.

Whelp. He isn’t getting off this hook easily.

“Emma just has a really good eye for colours.” It’s true, but probably not the smartest thing to say.

“Does she now?” he hears her terse reply while she spreads out a sheet to get Vicky ready. “Did she give you any decoration advice as well?”

Christ. Tom decides he needs to sit down for this, tugging Jamie onto his lap for reassurance.

“Um. No. She…I… Oh for fu–dge’s sake, I swear it isn’t like it seems!”

“Huh. So she does not have a good eye for colours?” Han is still focusing on changing their daughter but he can imagine her expression well.

Shifting and cursing himself for not bringing this up earlier, Tom tries again.

“She does. She’s actually very interested in interior desiging too, and she always gives her input on the set designs. Which is probably why she remembered that colour even though she spent only a minute or so in that room.”

“Ach ja? So multi-talented. Guess we can’t all be ordinary mums with two kids.” Now her voice is frosty.

“You’re not fu–dging ordinary!” Tom half snarls, makig her freeze mid-movement.

“Well,” she says after a while, now sounding more defeated than anything else, “it certainly feels like it.”

She says it quietly as she’s in the finishing touches of fixing Vicky’s diaper, and as if she doesn’t want Tom to hear.

Well, tough, because he’s heard and he’s got some things to say about that. “Han, please, you handle Jamie,” – said child is happily bouncing on Tom’s legs right now – “and Vicky every day, you’re about to go back to work, you clean, you shop, you support me, you–”

But she doesn’t let him talk on but turns around and addresses him instead. “Just stop it, okay? It’s not going to change anything right now. We’ll talk later, the kids want to see the set.”

Tom swallows. That’s not going as well as he hoped it would. He bounces Jamie on his leg once more and nods. He hopes that when they talk later, it’s not going to be about Emma but to reassure Han of just how great she is.

“Can you just tell me, if you…” she starts once more, then stops. “Well, if you’ve ever _met_ her?”

Oh. Oh goodness, what should he do now? The look in Han’s eyes tells him that he probably doesn’t even have to answer.

“Han…”

“Ah, I see. That’s fine, I guess,” she mumbles, then rocks Vicky in her arms a bit, making her jump up and down. “What shall we go see now, little one? Hmm? Jamie? What do you want to see?” She looks from their daughter to their son, her voice not betraying the bright smile she puts on for the children.

“Han,” Tom tries again. This is so going south. But his son is the one interrupting him this time.

“Caaaars! Boom!” Jamie chants, making big gestures with his tiny hands and exaggerated noises.

“That’s a good idea,” Han answers, then turns around to pick up the dirty diaper to throw it in a bin.

“Han, it’s really nothing…”

“Your son wants to see cars, Tom. Let’s go show him some cars?”

So, she doesn’t want to talk to him. Okay. He’ll charm his way in, then. “Yes, let's go. And then leave together, get something nice to eat and then a wine this evening?” he asks, standing up with Jamie in his arms.

Han simply raises her brow and says nothing.

* * *

And so they continue their exploration on set, but Han barely sees or hears anything.

Okay, so maybe she’s over-reacting. A bit. Whatever might’ve happened was in the past, before thieir relationship.

But what did happen? And why did it have to happen with Emma, who’s kind of perfect? And why does she have to find out now, when she’s kind of feeling really, really NOT perfect?

Mumbling something when Tom takes Vicky in her carrier away to give her a kiss and carry her, Han crosses her arms and makes sure she isn’t glaring.

Jamie is a ball of bouncy hyperactive delight between them but Tom isn’t vibrating with the usual energy and enthusiasm she knows him for. And it’s her fault.

Seriously, she doesn’t want to ruin this day but she’s not sure she should’ve come, and she’s grumpy and feels a tiny bit guilty, which only makes her grumpier. And jealous. Which she shouldn’t be. But still…

“Love?”

Tom’s voice so close to her ear startles her.

“Hm?”

“I said I need to be in make-up soon, we’re going to shoot a scene with me after lunch,” he says next, and with a frown Han realises that Tom’s actually leant so close to her she can feel his breath on her cheek.

He looks at her with uncertain eyes, like she’d need to give him permission to shoot. She’s not doing a great job with making her family happy today, does she?

“Oh, yeah.”

“Maybe you want to go eating with the kids? And then you can come watch me work?” His voice sounds as uncertain as his eyes look at her.

“Yeah, we can do that,” she mumbles. “You want to go eat something, Jamie?”

Her son – bless him – bounces some more between them. “Hungwy!”

It actually makes Han and Tom laugh, and she’s thankful for that.

“Okay, little one,” Tom says, “let’s go find you some pizza today, right?”

He winks at Han, and she can’t help but smirk a little at him. He’s still a great father, and nothing Han’s learnt today changes that.

But then again, it’s not really Tom that’s the problem, right? It’s Han and her stupidly low self esteem. And she doesn’t even know why.

* * *

Tom takes his family to the canteen on set and forages for pizza, a very eager Jamie hanging on his trouser leg like a monkey and accompanying him.

Laden with food - healthy things too because that’s how they roll - Tom returns to their table, miraculously managing neither to drown his son in tomato sauce nor to fall down theatrically.

Han has made herself comfortable, looking a bit tired and also still closed-off but at least not as if she wants to skin him anymore.

“I bribed them to add extra cheese to yours,” he says with a wink.

The Han he loves and is used to would have joked, maybe called him her hero or rewarded him with a kiss.

This current puzzling version of his wife smiles a little, mumbles a ‘thanks’ and begins cutting Jamie’s pizza into bite-sized pieces.

Shit. It’s really serious. Tom does’t even know why it’s so bad but he wants to make it better. Not the time and place for that…

“ _Danke_ ,” his son pipes up before stuffing a pizza piece into his mouth. He chews, then stares at Han. “Mama eat?”

“Yes, Mama should eat.” Tom holds a slice of her own pizza up to feed her.

But instead of grinning and taking a bite straight from the slice in Tom’s hand, – like she would normally do – Han grabs the pizza, smiles a little strained, and puts it down on her plate.

Instead, she picks up a tomato and pops it into her mouth. “See?” she asks Jamie, “Mama eats.”

Tom frowns. It’s pizza. It’s cheese. It’s pizza with lots of cheese. Han loves pizza with extra cheese. In all variations.

He takes a slice himself and nibbles on it. All the while not taking his eyes off Hanna, who seems to busy herself with handing over little pieces to Jamie.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asks.

“Not very, thanks.”

“I’m hungwy.”

“I know, Baby. Remember to eat your tomatoes, please,” Han tells their son softly.

They continue eating, Tom watching Han, Jamie munching happily and Vicky starting to fall asleep in her carrier.

When it’s time for Tom to go to make-up, Jamie’s eaten most of his slice and two tomatoes while Han nibbled on a tiny bit of her pizza.

“You should eat, Han,” Tom says as he stands up. “And when I’m finished in make-up, I’m gonna pick you up here, okay?”

She nods, but it’s not as enthusiastic as he hoped it would be. “Okay.”

With a pat on Jamie’s head, a loving gaze at Vicky, who’s making spit bubbles in her sleep, and a hesitant but loving kiss on Han’s head, Tom takes his leave.

All the while thinking about what he could do in the evening to make Han happy again and not on the scene he needs to shoot.

* * *

It seems to be taking Tom ages to get out of make-up.

A set assistant has found a place for Han and the children to sit, in the shade and with a good view of the set-up and greenscreen where the scene will be shot. They’re far away enough not to get in the way of filming but she can feel the energy and concentation everyone is radiating.

An actor Han can’t identify is rehearsing his lines there, close to a parked jeep. Emma is nowhere to be seen.

Just when Jamie has asked for the umpteenth time “When Daddy? Now Daddy???”, there’s a flurry of activity as cameras, lights etc. are checked and silence is called.

From a hidden corner, Tom strides onto the scene, dressed in a sharp off-white suit, a phone prop pressed to his ear. He does a double take when he sees the man by the vehicle, then launches into a tirade of angry words.

Han is so absorbed in observing her husband in action–even Jamie is silent and wide-eyed while Vicky is sleeping–that it takes her a moment to realize that Emma has quietly sat down next to her.

“He’s magificent to watch while acting, isn’t he?” the actress asks in a whisper.

Han can’t deny that, though she doesn’t feel like conversation or sharing this magical moment. So she simply nods vigorously, hating herself for feeling jealous over such a harmless and true comment.

“I’m glad you’re here to witness it,” Emma continues in a hushed rush. “He talks about you all the time, you know?”

Emma’s sentence does have the desired effect. Han’s eyes leave the scene in front of her, and she turns her head to look at the actress next to her.

She looks back with wide eyes and an eager – but genuinely looking – smile.

“Does he now,?” Han whispers back, making Emma nod vigorously again. “Huh, well, he constantly talks about his co-stars at home as well.”

Okay, it’s not fully true. He does talk about work a lot – simply because he loves it, and gets excited about it – but when the children are there, everything’s about the children.

“He loves his work.”

“Yes,” Han replies in a – hopefully still – hushed voice. “He does.”

“He loves you more, though. You and the children and his life as a father and husband. I’m sure, if he had to make a decision…”

“He wouldn’t have to.” That’s something they’ve talked about in detail before they became official and more serious than ‘dating’. That they’d be honest, and that Tom would never have to choose between Han and his job. That she wouldn’t have to choose either. As long as they tell each other, if something’s amiss.

So, why can’t she be honest now?

“I know he wouldn’t have to choose. That’s why I know what he’d pick,” Emma winks and smiles this genuine smile again.

And Han can’t help but blush. Here they sit, Han with this stupid jealousy and feeling so… inadequate, and Emma trying to root for her.

Jamie’s shout of “Papa! Papa! Here!” takes Han out of her thoughts, and she frantically wants to hush him, before she realises that she’s missed the entire scene, and they’ve indeed stopped filming, taking their marks for a second time. Oops.

She sees Tom wave at their excited son, and Han has to grab Jamie by his arm to stop him from running over. “Later, when Daddy comes over, you can talk to him again, okay?”

* * *

The scene is done after two takes, but then there’s more to film and Tom is also pulled aside for an in-depth discussion with the director, so Han and the children remain seated (and excited).

Emma excuses herself after a few minutes, needing to pop into make-up for some later scenes of hers.

And Han makes herself watch because deep down she knows that Emma isn’t the problem, and she’s always admired her as an actress.

When Tom strides towards them on his mile-eating legs at last, she rises quickly as Jamie runs towards him.

Whoa there, maybe that was a bit too quick after sitting. Feeling woozy, her head spinning a bit, Han clutches the chair back. Masking the movement so Tom’s all-seeing eyes don’t spot it, she bends over the carrier to fuss with Vicky’s cute little hat.

From the corner of her eye, she sees Tom sweeping up his son into his arms who chatters and babbles and grins happily. A reluctant smile tugs at her mouth while she breathes deeply.

Han takes another deep breath, and then one more while Tom’s and Jamie’s excited voices become background noises.

She swallows, feeling her stomach turn a little. Okay, so maybe she should have eaten something at lunch. Something more than a tomato here and there. But she’s not that hungry. At least, she tells herself that.

She’ll just do it like she’s done these past two weeks in preparation for the set visit. Skipping lunch and eating a light dinner. She’ll just have to make it to dinner and drink a water to keep herself hydrated.

“Mama?” Jamie’s voice startles her so much she almost falls flat on her butt. She didn’t even notice him coming up next to her. Now he’s grinning at her, his father behind him, smiling almost as bright.

“Yes, Jamie?”

“Did you yike Papa, too?”

“Of course, I did,” she mumbles, and then smiles at Jamie and up at Tom. “We all did.”

“Thanks, love.” Tom’s grin is proud. “Do you want to sit there for the rest of the day?”

Well. She doesn’t. It’s just that her head needs to stop spinning.

Fortunately for her, Tom is still half-focused on Jamie, the bouncy ball of energy that is their son.

“Tell you what, why don’t you stay here a minute longer?” he asks, pressing a slightly distracted kiss onto the top of her whoozy head. “I’ll get us all something to drink and then we’ll make a last round through the set before I tell Faisal to take you guys home.”

Han nods, slowly because it feels a bit as if her head might fall off.

Cradling Vicky to her like a lifeline, Han looks after Tom’s retreating back, Jamie hopping along and clinging to his hand.

She’s missed Tom during the past few weeks of filming, and so have the children. Especially Jamie is clingy whenever Tom does spend enough time at home. Her husband has had a tight schedule, often returning exhausted and needy for cuddles and nuzzling.

Which is probably not all that bad because that means Tom hasn’t discovered Han’s shameful secret yet. She smothers the bit of guilt and continues to breathe deeply, rearranging her face into a slightly tired smile.


	3. Just The Way You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a girl's night out with too much booze, Han's insecurities come out.

“I like that skirt, is it new?” Tom asks as Han walks into the living-room in a little bit of a hurry. She doesn’t want to be late for her night out with Sophie and Evie (Hannah with an h being on a vacation with Eddie and the kids).

But Vicky needed a little longer to go to sleep, and wrestling Jamie into his pyjamas took a bit of negotiation as well.

She does like that Tom notices, though. At least somewhat.

“It’s old actually,” she replies, knowing that a little pride is evident in her voice. Because it’s true. She’s bought it shortly before getting pregnant with Jamie and only wore it four or five times. Also, it’s a little shorter than her go-to mother-of-two-look.

Tom frowns a bit. He’s probably trying to figure out, if she’s being sarcastic again. But she isn’t, and she loves it.

“I’ve had it since before Jamie came along,” she explains while putting on her high-heels.

Said little boy picks up at hearing his name. He’s almost ready for bed, sitting on the couch next to Tom who’s watching the children alone tonight.

It’s Saturday tomorrow, so he doesn’t have to be on set for once. And then it’ll only be a few more days and the movie will be wrapped. Finally. They’ve been missing him.

“Mama, you going?”

“Ja, Jamie. Mama’s going. Remember, I told you this morning?” And twice this afternoon, for good measure…

Her son pouts in a way that reminds her way too much of her husband. “But Daddy home. Mama stay with Daddy and Jamie and Vicky.”

Ugh. It similarly breaks and warms her heart. But the woman in her who sometimes wants to be more than a caring mother is really, really looking forward to an evening out with the girls, sans children and with alcohol.

Before she can say something, Tom jumps to the rescue, pulling Jamie into his lap.

“No, buddy, Mama is going on a secret girl mission this evening. So it’s going to be only you and me on our own secret boy mission at home, okay?”

That earns him a grin and an eager nod from Jamie and a genuine, grateful smile from Han.

She smoothes her hand over the skirt, pleased when Tom’s gaze lingers before dropping to her high heels and lingering some more. The tip of his tongue pokes out to lick his lips before he pointedly tears his gaze away and bounces Jamie on his knee.

Oh yes, this is going to be a good evening. Han smiles some more. She didn’t think she’d fit into this outfit again, but apparaently the past few weeks have paid off.

Tom’s lingering glances almost make her want to stay at home to… enjoy the evening with him once the children are both fast asleep.

But the night is young – it really is, it’s not even 7 – and she and Tom both know that girls nights tend to lead to sexy times at home.

Never as risky as that one time in Italy of course. No, thank you, none of that.

“Mama coming home?” Jamie pipes up from Tom’s leg, seriously looking as if she’ll leave forever.

Han’s torn between finding it adorable and a little annoying, because yes, she loves all of them, but if Tom can go and shoot movies with beautiful people, she can at least go out with her friends once every few months, right?

“Ja, Jamie. Mama’s coming home. But I hope you’ll be in bed by then.”

She gives Tom a pointed look to which he only grins. He knows that she knows he’s got a thing for reading ‘just one more story’.

“Mama’s coming home, alright,” Tom tells Jamie, winking at Han. Oh. Oh.

Yep, she is.

Steeling her resolve, Han walks over–she’s a bit out of practice with the whole balancing on high heels thing after all the mommy shoes, but Tom’s heated gaze on her legs makes up for it.

She bends down to kiss Jamie on the head and Tom on the mouth, and her cheeky husband takes the opportunity to prolong the kiss until their son is going “eeewwww” and they break apart with a chuckle.

It’s lovely to see that Tom wants her–but also a bit alarming that it shows when she’s dressed a bit sexier after a long time. Was she right with her assumption then? That he…that she…

No, she’s not going to go there. Not now.

“You two behave while I’m gone, okay?”

Tom salutes her. “Yes, ma’am.”

Of course, Jamie imitates him, nearly poking his eye out with his finger.

With a sigh and a smile, Han ruffles the little boy’s and big boy’s hair and drags herself away.

Girl time, here I come, she thinks to herself as she walks to the door. She needs the fun and freedom–and distraction–badly!

“Viel Spaß!” Tom calls after her, one of the few German phrases he’s picked up from her over the years. (Have fun!)

* * *

And fun she has, as she sits with the girls in a pub where they’re known, because they often meet there and nobody cares who their husbands are. Nobody knows Evie’s husband to be fair, even not after pictures of their wedding surfaced because Tom was in attendance.

The thought makes Han giggle and drink some more of her Guinness. It’s a little strange, because she’s only had one pint before this, and this is the first sip from the new one.

Sophie and Evie look up from their plates of Fish and Chips. Okay, maybe Han should have ordered somethjng more substantial when drinking alcohol. But her salad tastes good.

“Are you okay there?” Sophie raises one perfectly formed eyebrow as Evie narrows her gaze on Han.

She stares back at them, nodding slowly. “Perfectly fine. Perfectly sober.”

It makes them giggle a bit, until Evie speaks up again. “I told you a salad wouldn’t help absorbing all the alcohol.”

“Yes, but do I want it absorbed?”

“You will want it tomorrow,” Sophie winks, but then smiles sweetly at her. “You don’t want sexy times interrupted by vomiting, I assume?”

Han scrunches up her nose a bit while picking up some salad on her fork. “I want sexy times. That’s all.”

Of course, her words are the cue for the real ‘girl talk’ to begin.

And all the banter and heated discussions about doing the deed are just what she needs–but a part of her is grumbling and pacing. Because she hasn’t got all that much action the past few weeks. Tom’s been away and exhausted. She’s been at home and exhausted. The children interrupt them all the time. And then there’s of course the fact that she’s ugly.

Probably that’s why Tom won’t jump her bones like he used to. Or is it?

But she’s going to be less ugly soon.

Han stabs a tasteless piece of salad and eats it, washing all the green stuff down with some more beer.

“I just wish she wasn’t so fucking NICE, then I could just blame and hate her,” she hears herself blurt out.

Huh. Where’d that come from?

The other two women both stop and stare, their forks hanging mid-air. And if she wasn’t feeling so stupid, Han would laugh at the sight.

“Huh?” Evie makes the sound at the same time that Sophie asks, “What? Who’s nice?”

The sober part of Han tells her to shut up. But the other part of her is kind of drowned in beer. And it tells her to let it all out.

“Do we have to hate someone with you?” Evie asks next and Sophie nods along. “We would, obviously.”

Aren’t they adorable? They’re so adorable. So, Han tells them. “Aaw, you’re adorable. I love you.” She does. “And it’s Emma. But we can’t hate her, because she’s nice, you know? She’d never look at another woman’s husband. It’s not her fault she’s fucking perfect.”

They look at here a little dumbly. Honestly, who’s the one who should eat something to soak up the alcohol now?

“And it’s not her fault I’m not and that Tom apparently loves her.”

“Did he say that? Who do we have to kill?” Bless her, Sophie gets her.

Or, well, she gets her a little, Han thinks in a sober moment.

“No-one, it’s… he didn’t say that,” she relents as she picks up the last of her salad. Her head feels a little woozy, so maybe another gulp of Guinness will help. It does, of course.

Evie and Sophie still stare at her. Ah, right. She continues, “but it’s Emma Watson. Of course, he loves her. Everyone does. She’s nice and lovely, she’s clever and funny and by god she’s so fucking beautiful.”

“But you,” Evie starts before Han interrupts her.

“’m not.”

It’s quiet, and Han can’t help but feel as if she’s just ruined girl’s night. “Sorry,” she says and stands up – a little too fast, because the room tilts a bit before her vision clears somewhat – to move to the bar. “I need a shot. Do you need a shot?” They both shake their heads. “Just me then.”

It’s not Henry managing the bar today, but a younger version of him. His son, as she and the girls have learnt during a visit some months ago.

“Hello, beautiful,” he greets her. “What can I get you?”

Her smile is a little strained. Beautiful. Huh. “Tequila. Just one, please.”

The bartender shoots her a look.

“Isn’t it a bit early in the day for a tequila shot?” He leans closer, winking at her and lowering his voice to a conspiratory whisper. “Has anyone dared to piss you off, beautiful? Fear no more, I’ll play your knight in shining armor.”

Han can’t help it, she has to grin. Tipsy as she is, she not only recognizes the harmless flirting but feels kind of pleased. She’s a settled down mother of two but she got this kind of cute man to wink at her.

“A knight, hm?” She wiggles her brows, maybe a tad too enthusiastically. “So do you have a castle?”

Henry’s son chuckles, which makes her laugh a bit too loudly. She can practically feel her friend’s eyes burn holes into her back but she keeps smiling.

“I’ll take that tequila shot for now, please. But I’ll let you know if there’s a dragon to slay.”

The bartender – should she get his name or is that too much? – chuckles again and pours her the shot, sliding it towards her along with a lemon and the salt shaker.

“Here you go,” he announces, and Han nods her thanks as she licks the back of her hand. Maybe she is a little stupid for ordering shots – well, one – but she feels like she’ll face the Spanish inquisition the moment she’s back at the table. Before she can pour the salt though, the bartender asks, “Your friends will keep an eye on you, though?”

Oh. They will.

And then Han sees with wonder how the man’s ears turn slightly pink as he looks past her. “Ah, never mind. They’re watching me like I’m trying to steal you from your husband,” he winces and nods to the ring on Han’s hand. “They will look out for you.”

Rolling her eyes, Han finally licks, drinks and nibbles, setting the glass down with a grimace. “They will. So. What’s your name?”

“Henry.”

“But, that’s your father’s name.”

“Henry Junior, then.”

Han nods. “Seems fair.”

Before she can say anything more, she smells the familiar scent of Sophie’s perfume. “Hi, there. We’d like three new pints, please.” She can feel the heat of Sophie’s gaze, though Han keeps stubbornly looking at a smirking Henry. “And a tall glass of water.”

“He really is,” Han mumbles and immediately hides her face behind her hands as Henry guffaws and Sophie snickers.

“And no more shots for this one.”

“Was planning on only one anyway,” Han says with a huff, realizing with a start that it takes a bit more effort than it should to talk clearly.

They make it back to their table, where Evie is staring at her with big, round eyes. Huh. It’s not like she’s grown an extra head or something.

Sniffing a bit, Han sits down and nurses her pint. Her salad looks way less appealing than a few minutes ago.

She snatches a few fries from Evie’s plate, which only intensifies her stare.

“What?” Han mumbles. “So only Mr. Blue Eyes I Have Legs For Days is allowed to be a harmless flirt all the time?” She devours the fries. “I bet he flirted-ed all over Emma those days when he showed her the blue room.”

“What?!?!?!” she hears from both friends simultaneously.

Han shrugs and munches on, so Evie clears her throat, obviously brave enough to ask. “So, you mean “Blue Room” as in… something kinky?“

Okay, now it’s Han’s turn to almost choke on her fries. “God, no! Well… no. Don’t think so.”

And then she tells all while slowly draining her pint. How Tom enjoys filming so much and everything he’s said about mothers of two – Sophie looked so sympathetic, Han almost started crying. But maybe that’s the Tequila. – and about how perfect Emma is and about the visit on set.

And then they’re silent, except for one “Huh,” from Sophie.

“Are you,” Evie starts after a while, “Are you sure that it’s all really this horrible? Tom loves you, he would never do anything to hurt you.”

“I know that,” Han states. “Does'n’ make me less fat.”

“Is that why you’ve eaten a salad? Did you eat anything else today?” Sophie asks, and Han is tempted to lie.

“An apple. An'another one.”

“Jesus!” That’s Evie. Seriously, it’s a little hard to keep up. “Maybe you should stop drinking then.”

* * *

_*2 hours later*_

Tom peeks in on the children through the quarter-open door. Of course, he ended up reading 3 instead of 1 bedtime story to Jamie. And had to answer several questions on snakes, of all topics not suitable to induce sweet slumber.

Well, that’s what you get when you transfer your love for The Jungle Book to your offspring.

Smiling fondly, he reassures himself that not so wee Jamie is out cold, having tucked him in an hour ago. Wee Vicky is giving off toddler snores that shouldn’t be so adorable.

Tom tiptoes in, grateful for a few quiet father moments. He makes sure of these every day, no matter how knackered he is. Slowly, he pulls the blanket tighter around Little Hiddleston Volume 2. Breathing in the smell of clean laundry and baby powder and simple, domestic happiness, he turns and walks back to the living room.

Barely a second later, his phone dings with an incoming message, then another.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he opens it, and his brows rise on a confused and amused chuckle.

> I love yuo so fughink much. Irsistible idiot.
> 
> Oh, dint wantto send that.

Well, well, well… Girls’ night must be fun.

* * *

He’s just made himself one last tea for the night and sent back a

> Having fun, I see. When will you be back so I can tug you into bed?

when the doorbell rings a few minutes later.

Tom rolls his eyes. Ah, no use for the key, then? Wondering what he may find on the other side and hoping it didn’t wake up the kids – probably not, they sleep like the dead once they’ve closed their eyes – he makes his way to the door.

He hears some snickering and Han’s voice saying – well slurring – “Can’t show you the blue room. Kids sleeping.” What the?

Tom’s not sure if he should be amused or concerned by the sight that greets him, but he definitely has to chuckle at how desperate Sophie and Evie look. Yep. Han can be a handful, she just isn’t very often.

Han, who leans sideways on the wall next to the door, facing him, her friends slightly behind her. And Han, whose skirt is a little higher than before, whose hair is a little rumpled and whose make-up a little smudged. She’s still wearing her high-heels though.

“Hi, Tom!” both of her friends greet in unison and snicker, definitely tipsy themselves.

“Ladies,” he answers with a grin and looks at Han. “Wifey,” he chuckles then, which becomes an “Ooph,” when Han raises from the wall, sways dangerously, and then wraps her arms around his middle in a steely grip.

“Hiiiii,” she sighs into his chest.

Huh.

Tom holds onto his swaying wife and scans the other two wives, who apart from being giggly and now holding hands look less tipsy–or is it drunk?–than Han.

Weird. Usually, Han drinks these two under the table, claiming proudly it’s her duty as a German woman to be able to hold her liquor.

“You din’t getany SSS‘MS from me m’kay?” his wife’s garbled, slurred voice says against his chest.

Grinning, Tom decides he’ll most definitely show said SMS to her–tomorrow morning when she’s sober and he can tease her endlessly.

“How many drinks did you have, Han?” He tries to make his voice stern and pries her away a bit to look at her glassy eyes.

“Juss’ a few.” She holds up some fingers with difficulty, then stares at them as if they’re rocket science. “Ugh, ‘ve got too many f’ngers.”

“Not that many,” Sophie interjects. “Some beer. Though…” She ignores Evie’s elbow jabbed into her ribs and adds, “Han had tequiiiiila too. One shot.”

Tom frowns. Okay, sometimes you have those days that you can’t hold your liquor, but Han talked excitedly about how she made Käsespätzle for the kids for lunch – Tom had some leftovers this evening as well – and how much she was looking forward to some greasy fish and chips at the pub.

“Maybe should’ve eaten more,” Sophie then says, and Tom can’t stop the snort that leaves his mouth while he’s simultaneously trying to not juggle Han too much.

“More? But…” That’s ridiculous. Han’s not the one to eat unhealthy all the time, but she’s definitely not encouraging people to eat less either. As long as there are healthy meals and their children are well nourished, Han is definitely all for indulging in those tasty, greasy meals.

But his thoughts and words are interrupted by his wife who’s turning around surprisingly graceful in his arms to shoot out a hand to her friends.

“Shhhhh! We… I… nononono. N'talking.”

Tom raises a brow as Evie and Sophie look at each other a little sheepishly, before Evie sighs and looks at him. “Maybe talk to her about that tomorrow.”

Huh? But what is there to talk about? But he nods anyway, Han mumbling “traitors,” under her breath and leaning with her back against his chest.

“Are you guys fine to get home?” he asks then, deciding that some talking to his wife is in order. Or at least trying to get her to bed. She can be quite stubborn after all. “I think this one needs a bed.”

Han’s murmurs of “’m fine,” are largely ignored by the group as Evie and Sophie both nod, pointing to the street behind them. “Cab’s waiting. Good night!”

Tom watches them make their giggly way to the street and as he hears a car speeding off, he looks down at his sulky wife. “Alright, Hannie-bunny, it’s time for bed for you.”

No sexy times then. Trying to stop her from vomiting more likely.

“Byyyyyeeeee!” Han calls loudly after the car that’s already half-gone, and Tom claps a big hand over her mouth to keep her from waking up the neighbourhood (and their children).

“Inside, love. Time to go to bed.”

“Mhm, bed,” she mumbles against his fingers. She’s probably trying to flutter her lashes–or wiggle her brows suggestively?–but looks more like a confused owl.

Tom pecks her cheek, knowing he shouldn’t find drunk Han so cute. Maybe it’s because it’s been a long time since she could let herself go, what with babies and breastfeeding.

“Are you sure you’ve had only one shot?” he asks once they’re inside and he’s knelt down to get Han out of her killer heels so she won’t stumble and break her ankle.

This time she’s trying for an indignant glare but still looks adorable.

“I c’n count, Hiddles’onnn. Be’er ‘n Jamie and Vicks.”

Biting his cheek so he won’t grin, he gives her a solemn nod.

“I’m sure you can. Probably much better than me and my Math-inhibited brain.”

That sends her into a round of giggles and swaying.

Okay, this is getting bad, Han decides as the room drags in and out of focus and she has to hold on to Tom’s shoulders, because for some reason he’s kneeling in front of her.

And then suddenly she’s smaller. Huh? Oooooh, she snickers a moment later. Her shoes. Of course.

“Than'you. Hero.”

Seriously, it hasn’t been this bad when she and the girls left the pub some minutes – hours? Seconds? – ago.

Then Tom, her darling husband Tom, chukles as well, stands up and drags her away a bit. How rude.

“Well, you seem more like a 5-shots-girl tonight.”

Pf. As if Henry would have ever allowed that.

“Noooo, jus'one. Henry forbideded.”

“Henry? The old pal from the pub? He’s looking out for you, I might have to thank him.”

Old? No. Young. And cute. “No, no, no,” she insists as she suddenly finds herself on the chair at the kitchen table. How did that happen? “Son. Hisson. ’S called Henry too. But young'r ‘n better.”

“What?!”

Tom stumbles, which Han seems to find hilarious because she’s giggling again, swaying on the chair.

“‘S cuuute.”

Blinking, he tries to process that. She’s really plastered, isn’t she?

Han nods emphatically, nearly toppling off the chair so he has to grab her shoulder (perhaps a bit too tightly, if he’s honest).

“Henry’s my kni’ ‘n shi’ng armour.”

What the fuck?

Tom stares, blinking some more. He knows three things: She’s drunk. She loves him too much to do aything stupid. He should NOT be jealous.

But knowing all that doesn’t exactly make this any easier.

Taking a deep breath, he searches for something to say, not attempting to take the snarky bite out of his voice. “So you’re a weak damsel in distress now?”

“‘M not.”

She tries to cross her arms defiantly, swaying even more and half-falling into his arms.

“I do think you need some rescuing now, though,” he mutters, deciding this is another conversation that will have to wait.

He pushes her back and holds up a finger that she blearily focuses on. “Stay here and I’ll get you a glass of cold water.”

Wisely, she doesn’t attempt nodding again, just slurs with a smile, “You’remy kni’ too.”

He’s cross with her, right? He shouldn’t be cross with her. And now he’s going and getting her water – maybe she should have drunk some more water? – and he’s still cross with her.

And that’s a little bad and she really really didn’t flirt with Henry aaaaall that much. Because… Because… all that thinking makes her sway a bit but…

“Weil, lieb dich.”

Suddenly, Tom’s in front of her again, still looking cross. But with a glass of water. “Love you too. Drink now.”

Huh. “Bossy.”

“Han, drink”

So, she does. Well, she wants to, but after a moment she stops. He’s not in a good mood apparently, and doesn’t appreciate the giggles that are escaping her now.

“I told you to drink that water, Han.”

“Yeah… al'ight.”

She drinks some more, the room spinning around her again. And then the room’s spinning and she is as well. At the same time. Oh goodness.

“Make'stop.”

“What?”

Alarmed, Tom takes the glass out of Han’s trembling hand as her eyes get more unfocused and she turns as white as the wall behind her.

“Mir’s schle..schlecht,” she whines. (I feel qu-queasy.)

“What what? Han, are you alright?”

Stupid question, Hiddleston. Of course she isn’t.

She doesn’t answer, only starts swallowing convulsively. Dear Lord, he knows what that means.

“Nononono.” Shooting up, Tom hauls Han upright with one arm so her feet don’t touch the floor anymore and half-runs towards the bathroom with her.

“Don’t puke all over me, love, I beg you,” he grits out with some desparation. Their two children have vomited on him quite enough the past few years, thank you very much.

They make it, barely.

He’s just draped his retching wife over the bowl and got a better grip on her when the vomiting begins.

* * *

Ugh. Fuck. Oh, shit, this is gross. Of course, Tom doesn’t tell her that. First of all, she wouldn’t understand now and adding to that Tom’s desperately trying not to puke next to her, while she heaves. She definitely didn’t eat fish and chips tonight.

“Sorry, so'y. Sorry,” Han murmurs in between puking, while Tom holds back her hair. And then she starts sobbing. “So'y.”

“Uh-huh. All’s fine. Let it out,” Tom grits out, simultaneously trying to breathe through his mouth and talking.

It’s not fine, and he’d prefer if she wouldn’t let it all out. There’s also not a lot there inside her, apparently. Not that Tom’s checking too much.

After a few very long minutes, Han seems to be done and Tom is as well. He knows – and not really remembers – her taking care of him as well. But that was a few years ago. And this isn’t like his wife, she can normally hold her liquor.

So, he flushes for her while Han is resting with her head against the seat, tears – from being so exhausted or maybe from pain or embarrassment – still streaming down her face.

“Should I get you some water now or do you need me to stay with you?” Tom asks, already standing up.

“N’ wat'r. Sleep,” is the answer that’s not helpful at all.

Tom just holds her for a moment, fighting the niggling feeling at the back of his mind that something isn’t as it should be.

No time for that now.

Taking care not to jostle her, he keeps his arms around Han and walks her to the sink where he helps her wash her face, mouth and hands.

“Sure you want to go to bed?”

“Ja,” she croaks, sniffling and swaying.

So he scoops her up again, this time with both arms and slooowly, though she still groans. He carries her into the bedroom, nudges the cover away with a knee and sets her down on the bed.

“I owe you a guys’ night after this,” he mutters, gently placing her down because she doesn’t look fit enough for removing her clothes.

“Hm-mhmph.” Is all he gets as a reply.

Tom pulls the cover up, making a mental note to bring a bucket, some water and some aspirin to the bedside once Han has drifted off into sleep.

“Danke.” It’s hardly more than a whisper. (Thank you.)

“Gern geschehen, Hannie-bunny,” he replies in some of the German he’s learned from her over the years. (You’re welcome.)

The reaction to that is a little snore.

* * *

There’s a hammer inside her head. Han’s sure of it. She hasn’t even opened her eyes, but that hammer is doing tremendous work with waking her up already.

The hammer and the tiny feet in the hallway that are running everywhere making sounds like an army of horses.

The hammer fits the rusty nails in Han’s mouth. What the hell?

She slowly opens one eye and then shuts it immediately as every blurry surface she can make out somehow swirls around her.

Oh god, is she going to throw up? The distant feeling of something like that happening the night before barely has time to settle, because the immediate answer to that question is yes.

Incredible happy for the bucket she finds next to her side of the bed as she shoots up, Han uses it. It’s not much that comes out but as she’s finished at least her stomach feels a little bit better.

Oh god, what a disaster. The last time it’s been this bad, Han’s been at university in her early 20s. And she’s learnt from it. Or so she thought.

The bed behind her – or next to her, as she’s now on her back again, breathing heavily – where Tom sleeps is empty. She doesn’t know what time it is and doesn’t want to check. Simply out of fear she might puke again as soon as she does so much as moving a muscle.

But she’s a mother. No heavy drinking, hangover-filled weekends for her anymore.

She breathes deeply – which may be a mistake – and prepares for the day. Laying down. Not remembering anything after leaving the pub. But nothing too bad happened. She’s sure of it. Kind of.

Even breathing evenly–and trying not to catch the vomit smell and her own ‘got drunk and didn’t shower’ smell–hurts like a bitch. But Han does it anyway because she has a feeling she’ll need what little strength she can get for what is to come.

Concerned Tom is worse than the Spanish inquisition, as she’s well aware of from previous exerience.

She’s just tried to swallow down half of those rusty nails in her throat when the half-open door is kicked fully open, gently.

It reveals a dressed Tom with his blue shirt sleeves rolled up–she wishes she could apreciate that sight that usually never gets old–and his hair disheveled. Little Vicky is cradled expertly in one arm, snuggled in with her milk bottle, her eyes focused as intensely on her father’s face as if he’s her whole universe.

She can relate to her daughter. Or she could, if she weren’t half-dying here.

“Guten Morgen,” Tom says.

She’s got to give him credit for speaking softly but the sound explodes inside her skull anyway.

So a low German curse is what he gets as his aswer. Good morning, my arse.

Tom wrinkles his nose and takes two involuntary steps back before pulling himself together.

“Be right back.”

He’s gone in a flash and Han concentrates on breathing again.

She doesn’t know how much time passes, she barely knows – and only by the pain in her head – that she seems to be alive.

But eventually she hears some gurgling from the children’s room and a few seconds later Tom is back, sans Vicky this time.

Han opens her eyes a little more, seeing Tom frown.

“I see, the bucket was a good idea,” he says, coming nearer and then picking it up without looking before he rushes to the bathroom. Han can hear the water presumably from the tub and after a while the toilet flushes and Tom’s back.

“’t was,” is all the answer Han can give.

“Uh-huh,” Tom says and a second later his side of the bed dips a little. “How are you feeling?” he asks, now closer to her.

“Full of life and happiness.”

He chuckles at that, that idiot, and then goes quiet again. “What happened?”

Han turns her head a little and then meets Tom’s concerned stare. See? It’s already beginning. “I… drank?”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

His concerned stare turns into a glare. Han wants to huff but decides against it.

“Can we do this after I’ve stopped dying? Bitte?”

With a sigh and a frown, Tom nods. He sort of crawls over to her side (her eyeballs hurt too much to check), and then a water glass and two aspirin hover in the vicinity of her face.

Praying that she can keep it down, Han takes the offered salvation before gingerly leaning back against the headboard and closing her eyes.

She opens them after a second when nausea returns and breathes deeply, dimply registering that Tom is holding her clammy hands.

“‘m sorry,” she mumbles.

She can feel Tom squeeze her fingers. “I guess that’s just payback for that time you had to put up with my drunk arse.”

She’d snigger if she could. But she has a feeling she’s a less funny - and more foolish - drunk than he was years ago. Ugh, confession time won’t be easy.

* * *

They eventually make it out of bed some time later. Tom way earlier than Han. She’s just happy he’s entertained the children when she was in the bathroom trying to decide if she should just drown herself since she apparently was going to die from the hangover anyway.

When she finally makes it to the kitchen – dressed in a loose shirt and even looser sweatpants – the whole family’s there, seemingly waiting for her.

She loves her children, really, but damn, have they always been this loud?

She greeted by Vicky making – very loud – music on her high-chair with one of Jamie’s plastic spoons. And Jamie is munching happily on some toast – loudly as well.

But that’s nothing compared to the happy gurgling from Vicky and the happy squeal from Jamie. “Mama ‘wake!”

Han mutters a soft “fuck” under her breath just as Tom answers, “Yes, Mama’s awake,” while sipping his coffee. There’s one waiting for her as well. Bless him.

She’s slumped on her chair, the children babbling away when Jamie asks, “Mama eat?”

Her stomach almost jumps out of her body, so she simply murmurs, “No.”

“Mama not eat again?”

Feeling Tom’s eyes on her, she shakes her head at her son. That little traitor.

“Han? Why was it so bad yesterday?”

When she looks at her husband, Tom’s eyes are locked on her. Oh damn.

Something is fishy.

Tom studies Han’s face, digging beneath the ‘hangover expression’ to see that she’s uncomfortable. But why? He’s been sensnig since last evening that she’s hiding something from him, and it’s worrying the hell out of him. They don’t have secrets. They promised it to each other when they got married.

Tom has been putting all these off-sounding remarks together, and now his little son has given him a lightbulb moment.

“Han?” he asks again, and she cringes a little.

“I swear, I only had one tequila and a few beers. Shouldn’t have been so bad.”

“I believe you. But then what went wrong?”

It takes her a while to answer reluctantly. “Must’ve forgotten to eat enough. We were having such fun, and…”

Yes, that confirms his suspicion.

“What did Sophie and Evie order?”

She blinks at him. “Fish n chips.”

Tom nods to himself. “And from what you donated to the toilet bowl last night, I’m guessing you had a salad?”

A tiny nod.

“Because you were so full from what you’d eaten at home?”

A tiny shake of the head. Well, at least she isn’t lying…anymore.

“Han, look at me. Have you not been eating well the past few days? You practically ignored the pizza at the set, but I thought that was because you weren’t on good terms with me, for some unfathomable reason. Now Jamie’s comment has made me rethink.”

Han is not sure, if it’s the hangover or the shame and embarrassment – but she feels tears prickling behind her eyes. No crying now, no crying.

She sniffles a little, and Tom as well as Jamie stare intensely at her. “Mama sad?”

Han tries to smile brightly, ignores the pounding in her head – that lessens a little after the pain killers earlier – and turns around to Jamie to tickle his tummy.

“Mama’s not sad,” she answers brightly.

“Mama’s just a little stupid,” Tom says in the same voice, before he stands and picks up Jamie, taking him out of his chair. “There’s Winnie the pooh on the TV, you can watch until I come get you, okay?”

Jamie shoots off with a whoop and Han really, really wants to go and watch it with him.

Instead, she has to face Tom.

“What have you been eating these last days? Has it only been days? When have you been eating?” She stares at him, and Tom stares back. Then he looks up and down her body, and Han can see the realisation hit him. “Those pants looked a little tighter the last time you wore them. Han?”

“Uh. Well. Weeks. I’ve… fruits. Mostly. And salad… and… and I’ve eaten in the mornings. And a little bit at lunch. And… well. Not so much at dinner. I wanted… I want… I’m in shape,” she mumbles at last, ignoring Tom’s wide concerned eyes on her.

And then it happens. The tears. And a little hiccup.

Well, hell.

Tom’s out of his chair in a second, rounding the table to take Han into his arms.

God, no tears, please. He’ll just start blubbering himself.

He has absolutely no idea how to react, apart from holding her and shushing her as she sniffles and occasionally hiccups.

He wants to scold her for being so foolish. Risking her health. Thinking she was out of shape and needed to starve herself. This is so unlike her. His Han is a confident woman, and she knows he loves her and adores her, body included. Is it some hormonal glitch? Someone’s snide remark? Something he’s said or done??? Oh God.

“Han, love, don’t cry. It’s… you… WHY?”

But instead of an immediate reply, he only gets a couple more sniffles and hiccups. It was something he’s done, right? She would tell him otherwise.

And then, very small and very softly he hears some mumbling right at his chest, but he can’t make it out. “Hm? What was that?” Tom asks as softly as he can, stroking her back and squeezing a little tighter.

“’M not as fit as be- be- before.” Tom tries to lean back a little, but Han holds on, so he stops moving.

“But… before what?”

“Children. And. And you…” she stops. Oh goodness, he’s been right. “You shoot with fucking perfect Emma Watson. And you like her, and she likes herself. In a good way. And she’s not just beautiful and fit and clever and all that, she’s also fucking nice. So nice. And I…”

What? Han’s talked herself into a rage. Tom needs some time to process all of this. Emma? Because he’s shooting with Emma? But…

“I’m stupid,” she mumbles at last.

“You’re not.” Whoops, that might’ve been a bit loud. And Tom realizes he just basically called her stupid a few moments ago–but that was for Jamie’s benefit, simplified and more in the sense of ‘done something silly’.

Damn.

Han burrows deeper into the embrace, sniffling some more.

And he still has no idea how to handle this. Surely she knows that she’s the most beautiful woman on earth to him? That he loves her for more than her body. That said body is gorgeous even if she isn’t a size 0 (never was, never should be).

But sometimes knowing and ‘knowing’ are two different things, Tom’s familiar with that.

And so he rocks her and tries to find the correct words.

“Han, love, I work with people all the time who are publicly viewed as great or beautiful or a role model. That doesn’t mean that I think you’re anything less than great and beautiful and a role model in your own right.”

That only makes her hiccup some more. Oh dear, oh dear.

“Have I ever given you any reasn to think you’re less attractive to me? Ever? At all? Hm?”

Han tries to find the right words in between her crying. Surely, Tom did notice the lack of sexy times since shooting began? And even a little before that?

And surely it can’t all be just because of the children but also because Han hasn’t lost all of her baby weight? Or maybe because she doesn’t find herself as attractive as before?

Han doesn’t know how to say it properly, so instead she just nods her head against Tom’s chest.

“I have?” he asks. “When?” Tom sounds almost appalled, and now Han feels bad.

“Lackofsexytimes,” she murmurs in one go.

“Sorry?”

Han sighs. And buries deeper into the embrace. “Didn’t have much sex.”

“We… I…”

“’S okay.”

“No, it’s not, Han. Won’t you look at me, please?”

He wants to let go, Han can feel it. So, instead, she squeezes as hard as her hungover body allows. “No.”

Well, fuck. Or rather, no fuck…

Once again, he feels way too helpless.

“Han, Schatz…” His use of the German endearment causes a stifled sob. Great, whatever he’s doing or saying is wrong.

Tom forges ahead anyway. “Okay, I’ll admit you’re right about that.“ Another sniffle. “But it was most certainly NOT because I felt less attracted to you. I never did and I never will. I love and desire you just the way you are. And if you don’t believe that, then I’ll lift you onto the kitchen counter right now and prove it.”

That makes her still for a moment, her lashes fluttering against his chest.

Good.

“Love, I held back because I didn’t want to overwhelm you. You’ve been so busy and exhausted and juggling so many things, and sometimes I came home so late and I thought I shouldn’t bother you. I didn’t want you to believe I didn’t feel just as happy only cuddling you. Didn’t want you to feel obliged to be available because I can’t get a grip on my libido. Turns out that backfired quite spectacularly, hm?”

“It did,” Tom hears her mumble against his chest, the voice a little less raspy and free from hiccups. “It wasn’t because I’m ugly?”

He can barely hold in the frustrated shout of ‘NO’ that wants to escape him. Shouting wouldn’t help, Tom knows that.

“You’re not ugly, Han. I’ve found you beautiful since the first day we met. And you’ve grown more and more beautiful every day. When you said yes to being with me, when you accepted my proposal, when you agreed to be my wife and when I first saw you with Jamie and Vicky. Okay?”

A sigh, and then a nod. “Sorry.”

“No, no. You’ve got every right to feel like you feel when you feel it. But Han, please, talk to me. Don’t let things get that far.”

Relief floods him when Han finally lets go a little bit and shuffles back to look at him. “Thank you.”

Tom smiles, glad when he sees a tiny one on Han’s tear stained face. With his thumbs he brushes them away, holding her face in his hands. A small nod tells him it’s alright to kiss her, so he does.

A gurgling sound breaks the silence between them, coming from their daughter who’s watched with growing interest from the high-chair she sits in. Tom smirks and bumps Han’s nose with his finger. “I promise I’ll find a way we won’t be interrupted.”

“That’d be nice.”

He nods. “Uh-huh. But can you promise me something in return? No starving yourself. Please, Han. Eat as healthy as you want, but eat, please. No need for stupid bartenders to be your knight in shining armour then,” Tom can’t help but grumble.

Han almost wants to grin, but she isn’t quite there yet.

Tom gazes at her so intesely she feels a shiver.

“Han?”

“Hm?”

“We’ve made it so far, jumped so many hurdles together. We’ll make this problem go away too. Together.”

She tries a smile again, feels herself succeed a little more this time.

“Ja. Zusammen.” (Together.)

“Immer,” Tom replies, forgetting the “for” in the German version of “forever” but making her heart unclench nevertheless. His lips brush her forehead tenderly, the way she often does it with their children. “Now, how about a shower for you to feel more human?”

She nods cautiously, her head not so intent on killing her anymore.

“Do you want some help or a moment to yourself?” Tom asks.

He truly is considerate all the time. If only sometimes he wasn’t, then they’d have had more sexytimes and she’d have had less doubts.

With a soft sigh, Han steps away. “I’ll have a nice hot one by myself.”

He sends her a smile, and she takes the memory of it with her into the bathroom, groggily stepping under the spray and hoping it’ll wash away some of her worries too.

When she turns the shower off some time later and grabs a towel, she pauses, then blinks before her eyes widen in realization.

There’s music coming from the adjoining bedroom, and her heart unclenches some more to make room for a wave of love.

Tom’s idea and choice of song speak volumes as „Just The Way You Are“ reaches her ears.


End file.
